


What Counts

by Creator0fWords



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Regular Humans AU, Romance, Tom Rosenthal, angsty mcangst, brief allusion to Alex, listen to "Middle of My Mind", self interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creator0fWords/pseuds/Creator0fWords
Summary: You did always say that I counted too much.It's been twelve months, six days, four hours, and twenty-two minutes.[Oneshot][Angst][Supercorp][Regular humans AU]





	What Counts

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably a pretty unconventional piece, i dunno.  
> You can use your imagination here; I never specify who is who, so just picture whomever you want! (They're both regular humans too)
> 
> As an aside; I wrote this entire piece while listening to "Middle of My Mind" by Tom Rosenthal, and I highly suggest you do the same. It might not last the whole way through, so just prepare for a repeat :)
> 
> Anyways, have fun!

Hey.

I know… I know it’s been a while.

Twelve months, six days, four hours, and twenty-two minutes, to be precise.

Yeah. That’s right. I counted.

You always said I did that too much. Count, that is. You said it was unnecessary to count _everything_. A waste of energy.

Maybe you were right. But it’s the only thing that’s been keeping me busy now.

You know that I counted how many times your heart beat, as you slept?

21,451.

I didn't sleep that night.

I also kept track of how much time we spent together. How long we were… _Together_ together.

Thirteen months, seven days, and three minutes.

Just barely more than the amount of time since…

Well, you know.

It wasn’t a lot of time, but… I guess it was worth it. All of it. Every moment, every memory we made… I will never forget. _Never_.

You’ve never been far from my mind since… since…

Did you know I was fired from my job?

Yeah, you heard me.

That job, with the interview that you helped me prepare for for weeks. The one that, after I passed, made us pop a bottle of champagne out of sheer joy.

We must have danced under the stars for hours, watched by the tall and silent trees.

I remember you were so warm, compared to that bitter night wind.

And your smile… The way you acted as if it had been _you_ to receive your dream job, and not me.

I think it was that moment that I realized how much I love you.

…

Loved you.

* * *

  ** _Thirteen months, three weeks, one day…_**

 

Remember when we first met?

You were, what, working as a server at that restaurant downtown, while I had been coming in for a date?

Mind you, it was one of my friends who’d set me up with him.

And it was such a horrible date.

He kept going on his phone, and talking with his mouth full. Plus he would not shut up about how he - a nobody actor - was going to be the next Leonardo DiCaprio.

I saw the looks you kept shooting me. Pity and sympathy.

And maybe it was pathetic, but I liked that somebody thought he was as terrible a match as I did.

Then when he started getting handsy and ignoring me, you were the one who came over and kicked him out of the establishment.

Politely, too.

I still don’t know how you do that thing with your eyes. The one where they narrow and get that dangerous edge to them. Sometimes they even look darker.

It’s terrifying, you know.

Anyways, I was really grateful.

I hope you enjoyed that tip I left you, by the way.

It was everything left in my wallet, after he made me pay for the entire evening.  

 

The next time I saw you, working as a lifeguard on the beach, I remember wondering just how many jobs you worked.

I’ll be honest. I was distracted thinking about you when I went into the water.

I mean, you weren’t leaving terribly much to the imagination.

It’s probably why I was washed away by the tides.

Thanks again for saving me, by the way.

That’s twice before we even really knew each other.

But, I suppose, that is part of our relationship. I do something, and you either clean up my mess or rescue me from my disasters.

I always loved you for that. How much you cared, and how you didn’t walk away long past the point where others would have.

That second time, when you had your arms around me to keep us afloat, I remember looking at you and wondering. Wondering if there was a possibility there.

For an us.

I wonder what would happen if I could go back in time and tell my younger self that yes, there would be an us.

I think that my younger self would be shocked that someone like you could ever love someone like me.

 _I_ am still shocked.

And awed.

I must have done something right in my life, then.

But that was weeks before we got together.

And fourteen months before…

…

* * *

  ** _Ten months, two weeks, five days…_**

 

You’re the one who kept insisting I take up a hobby outside of hibernating on our bed, religiously rewatching _Friends_ for the seventeenth time.

Boy, was baking a disaster.

Although, I do still think some of the blame falls on your shoulders, o master chef.

I’m not the one who mislabelled salt and sugar.

I’m not the one who left their novice pupil unattended in the kitchen.

But hey, you did say you wanted to get it redone anyways…

Takeout that night was delicious, I remember. Potstickers served with a side of leftover pizza and _victory_ , because you never pestered me about hobbies again.

We watched two seasons of Friends that night, together under a small mountain of blankets and pillows.

Well, I _should_ say that _I_ watched two seasons of Friends that night. You fell asleep after ten episodes.

And maybe I got a little distracted from Joey’s woes because you were doing that thing with your nose again.

You were also snoring a little.

It was adorable.

I miss those days.

* * *

**_Nine months, one week, one day…_ **

 

I’m sorry I yelled.

I’d just been in a really bad place, and it all boiled over when you told me you were taking that offer.

It was unfair of me. I shouldn’t have done it. It was your life, and I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have yelled.

Or walked out.

Yeah, that was pretty shitty of me too.

Do you know how bad I felt when I came back in at six in the morning, to find you still sitting at the dining table, exactly where you’d been seven hours and thirty-one minutes ago when I left?

And then you had to go and tell me you’d already declined the offer.

I was furious all over again, but not at you. At me.

For being so selfish.

So thoughtless.

I loved you so much in that moment. Almost as much as I hated myself.

And you - you kind, generous, giving little _shit_ \- you kept telling me it was okay. That you were happy with your choice, and weren’t going to regret it.

Well _I_ regret it.

Because if you’d gone…

Then maybe you’d still be here right now.

* * *

  ** _Four months, one week…_**

 

I knew when I was going to propose.

I’d had it all planned for weeks.

In a romantic restaurant in the City of Canals, outside by the water with the flickering lights of an ancient city shining on us, I would get down on one knee and present the ring I’d spent hours picking out. I’d tell you how amazing and perfect you are. How you are my home, and that as long as I’m with you, I don’t need anything else.

I’d pop the question.

But even with all my planning, I had no idea how you’d react.

So, naturally, I drew out a flowchart in an attempt to predict your response.

There were a hundred and ninety-nine different outcomes, ranging from that simple and sweet “yes” to you beating me up with a breadstick.

And yet, in a hundred and ninety-nine different scenarios, I never predicted what you did.

“Drain your glass,” you told me, gesturing to my wine. And at first, I thought you wanted me to get drunk enough to handle your inevitable rejection.

So, with the both patrons and staff watching me, I lifted it to my lips, and drank.

When I saw the ring, I couldn’t believe it.

You saw me choke.

Splutter.

Turn red in disbelief.

I remember fishing it out of the glass and just admiring it, reflecting in the dim candlelight.

Of course you, the world’s biggest cheese ball, would go with the old ring in the glass of wine proposal.

I loved it.

The look on your face… I could never describe it.

Elation? Happiness? Relief? Contentedness?

A blend of all four?

Myself, I was feeling overwhelmed. I’d spent days preparing myself for rejection, and here I find that you were planning to propose too.

About as much of an affirmative as I could possibly get.

Your lips tasted like the sweetest future. Like white dresses and shimmering veils. Flowers and dances. Oaths and promises.

There were a thousand stars that night.

* * *

  **Eleven weeks…**

 

Your new office building, I remember, was absolutely intimidating the first time I went to bring you lunch.

A massive goliath of steel and glass.

I stood outside, counting the windows on my side, until my head tipped back all the way and I had to squint to make out even the smudgy shapes by the clouds.

You wondered why the lunch was cold.

I didn’t tell you it was because I was counting again.

You wouldn’t have been happy.

We were still making wedding plans, I recall. The guest list had been our priority at that time.

Well, at first.

Your new assistant never looked me in the eyes again. Not after she caught us lip-locking on your brand new desk.

She was such a sweet girl, too.

What was her name…

Mia?

Mia.

* * *

  **0 days…**

 

It was one day before the wedding.

 _One. Day_.

I was so excited as I wove through traffic to make it to your building.

So much so that I almost missed the smoke rising from its six hundred plus windows.

I remember slamming the brakes, and just staring.

This couldn’t be happening, I thought. Not today. Not ever.

I parked my car a block away and sprinted for the building. I’d never run so fast in my life.

I screamed your name as I drew closer, though I knew that you couldn’t hear me.

The firefighters and ambulance were just arriving on scene as I made it to the front door, and one of them ran to pull me back before I could run into the inferno.

When I saw you, a smoky figure among smoky shadows, I started sobbing even harder.

Tears of relief.

And you looked relieved, too, when you saw me.

You made it to the threshold before the building exploded.

Our fingers were almost touching.

One second away.

 _One. Second_.

 

I woke up in the hospital with a broken arm, several broken ribs, and a severe concussion on our wedding day.

I had no idea you were no longer here.

I hate the number one.

I’ve never gone back to Italy.

I was fired from my job because I wouldn’t work.

I couldn’t.

Every time I walked in, I thought of you, and how hard you worked to get me in there.

I couldn’t take it.

Neither could my boss.

I’m sorry.

It’s been twelve months, six days, four hours, and twenty-nine minutes since the last time I saw you.

I miss you.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if you didn't, listen to "Middle of My Mind" by Tom Rosenthal while reading!  
> If you did, tell me how it went - did the song help or detract?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> \- C


End file.
